The Case from 1659
by Anthea Evans
Summary: Sam thinks there's something strange about that 1950's Police Box. When an odd man in a bowtie pulls the Winchesters into the box, it turns out he was right. They all travel back to 1659 to take on a vampire. Set between 'The Snowmen' and 'The Bells of St. John' for Doctor Who, and right after 'Dream A Little Dream of Me' for Supernatural. Clara/Sam.


**A/N: **Hello all! This is my first fanfiction. I collaborated with my friend, Noelle, who is totally awesome. Also, although I looked, I could not find the original owner of the cover image. If that is your image, a quick pm is all you need to do to make me take it down.

Other than that, I thank you all for your time, and I hope you enjoy. Faves and reviews make my day, and I shower all who give them to me with invisible virtual cookies. (Chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin, your choice.)

**Characters: **Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Eleven, Clara Oswald [Sam W./Clara O.]

**Warnings:** Sort of Major Character Death but not really?

* * *

_Prologue, France, 1659:_

She quickened her pace, the bite of the cold wind threatening to seep through the thin fabric of her shawl. She dared a backwards glance before starting to run. Tears began to fall as she realized that she might not make it.

Soon enough, after an increasingly frantic journey through tangled forest, a faint hope began to blossom as the cottage she called home emerged.

She rushed to the door, struggling to get it open. She dared another backward glance, fear overtaking her mind. When the handle finally gave way, she darted inside and slammed the door behind her. Without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest chair and shoved it against the door. After a tense moment, she sighed in relief.

The door began rattling violently. She jumped fearfully and ducked out of sight, her breathing jagged and short.

All was silent again. Finally deciding that it was safe, she cautiously emerged.

She walked stiffly to the washing basin and splashed cold water on her face, looking up to the dim mirror. She was alone. As she confirmed this, the hint of a cold breath made itself known on the back of her neck, startling a weak gasp of fear from her lips.

"Salut," a male voice said softly.

A high pitched scream pierced, but there was no one to hear it.

* * *

_America, 2008:_

Sam closed the door of the Hi-Ho Motel and glanced at Dean, who was searching through the trunk of the parked Impala.

"Did you find Bela yet?" Dean asked, not looking up from the car.

"She checked out of a motel in Peoria," Sam replied. "That's a couple hours away. It's a good place to start."

"She'd better be there; she stole the friggin' Colt and the apocalypse's going to sneak up on us if we don't do anything," Dean said tensely, before tucking a small pistol into his jacket and handing a knife to Sam.

"Dean, do you see that?" Sam asked slowly, nodding toward a tall blue phone booth perched across the parking lot.

"Yeah. It's a box," Dean said dryly.

"It's a London police box from the 1950's. It's 2007. Don't you think it's a little strange that it's here in Connecticut?"

"Dude. It's strange how you know these things." Dean walked up to the box, reading the sign. "It says 'Pull to Open,'" he said, grinning at Sam and tugging the handle. The door didn't budge. Dean tried again, rattling the blue wood.

"It's probably a prop or something," Sam said, somewhat disappointed.

Without warning, the blue door creaked inwards and a floppy-haired man with a prominent chin appeared.

"Oi, watch it—oh! Hello, Winchesters! Still in the saving-people-hunting-things business, I see. Good. Very good." The last word was punctuated with an approving nod.

He bounded out to them, seizing their hands with surprising strength and bestowing vigorous handshakes on them both.

Sam and Dean stared at the man, both wondering how their identities could have been so transparent to someone who appeared to be neither a demon or an angel but was the possessor of a British accent that didn't seem quite British.

Ducking his head back through the thin blue door, the strange man shouted, "Clara! I found them!"

Turning his attention back to the Winchester brothers, the floppy-haired man lowered his voice and continued, "We don't have much time, relatively speaking. You're going to come with me and Clara—there's a bit of a problem with a vampire. Well, I say 'bit of a problem,' but it's more like 'situation.'"

"How about telling us who you are?" Dean suggested, a quizzical expression forming on his face.

"Ah, yes. I do keep forgetting that not everyone recognises me. Ooh—the fame's getting to my head. I'm the Doctor!"

"Doctor who?" Sam asked, only to be rewarded with a childish grin.

"Just the Doctor. The eleventh regeneration, to be exact—if anyone actually wanted to be exact. But I digress—I do that a lot. That's Clara. She's my companion." he jerked a thumb back toward the box. "Say hi, Clara. There are people here to meet you!"

"Wait. You named your phone box—" Dean trailed off when a petite brunette materialised at the door, her hair cascading just below her shoulders.

"Hello, boys!" she called, waving cheerily. They stared blankly, not quite understanding what was happening.

"What's with the phone box? And how can you fit in there without—" Dean glanced at Clara. "—you know—bumping?"

"It's my TARDIS. Come and see," the Doctor answered with a cheeky smile and no further explanation before striding back inside. The brothers exchanged looks before shrugging in unison and following him. Sam pushed the handle and the door swung inwards, contrary to the admonitions on the sign outside.

"It's bigger—on the inside," Sam said, blinking rapidly.

"Oh, I do love it when they say that. It makes me feel very satisfied inside and quite smug. "Did you hear him, Clara? He said it!" The Doctor said, draping his arm across her shoulder and grinning at the Winchesters whose attention was wholly absorbed by the completely and quite literally, alien interior resplendent with brushed chrome, multiple doors, and a gigantic console-type-object in the middle of it all.

Clara smiled up at the Doctor, crossed her arms, then looked back at the Winchesters.

Dean finally managed a gasped "Wow," his mind focusing on a view that was, in his opinion, more spectacular than the interior of the phone box.

"Right. Off we go!" the Doctor declared, beginning to pulling levers, setting coordinates, and recklessly pushing buttons while dashing madly around the console.

"You might want to hold on to something," Clara said, appearing at Sam's side and gripping the handrail. The glowing blue drive system, set in the middle of the console, began moving up and down with increasing speed. A mechanical wheezing noise vibrated through the ship as the TARDIS jerked into motion. Sam's eyes widened as he was nearly slammed to the floor, saved only by his death grip on the rail surrounding the console. Dean, on the other hand, tumbled across the floor and rammed painfully into a pair of closed doors before wrapping his arms around the nearest solid object.

"What's happening?" Sam yelled.

"We're traveling through the time vortex!" Clara replied, smiling, her hair flying behind her as the ship spun through space and time.

"The what?" Dean yelled from his uncomfortable position by the doors.

"TARDIS!" the Doctor exclaimed, pulling a lever with one hand and steadying a swinging screen with the other. "She's my ship! Time and Relative Dimension in Space! We're going back in time!" He laughed, a smile threatening to engulf his face entirely.

Finally, with a sputtering mechanical gasp, the ship came to a shuddering halt, allowing everyone to release their white-knuckled grips. Dean stumbled to his feet, pulling his gun out and leveling it at the Doctor.

"What the hell just happened?!" he yelled. "Who are you, really?"

The Doctor's eyes widened and he raised his hands, stepping back.

"Doctor," Clara whispered, keeping her eyes on Dean, "they won't kill us, will they?"

"I don't know, Clara," he whispered back, hands still raised, "they're American. You never really know with Americans. Quite unpredictable. Reminds me of the time I stopped in eighteenth century Massachusetts and they were throwing tea into the ocean—"

"Dean. Don't you think we could resolve this without shooting anyone?" Sam interrupted, approaching his brother.

"I want answers!" Dean yelled at the pair of Brits.

"Oh, answers. I'm good at that," the Doctor said with a smile, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "Two and two make four, the capital of the Honduras is Tegucigalpa, and I've got bigger brain cells than Clara here—"

"But I've got more of them," Clara chimed in.

Dean cocked his gun, effectively melting the smile off the Doctor's face.

"Right," the Doctor said, pursing his lips.

* * *

"So you're telling me that this—box—can travel through time and space," Dean said, sitting across from the Doctor and his companion. Sam leaned against the rail behind his brother, listening quietly.

"I've said that about five and a half times and you still don't understand. You might want to get that checked," the Doctor said, rolling his eyes.

"Why are we here?" Sam asked Clara, speaking for the first time since Dean pulled his gun.

"There's—a vampire," she said, eyeing the gun in Dean's hand. "He's terrorizing a town in 1659 and we thought you could help."

"You know of us?" Sam asked, a small surprised smile stretching his features.

"Who doesn't?" Clara replied. "Sam and Dean, the Winchester brothers. What's your motto? Saving people…"

"…hunting things, the family business," Sam finished. Clara beamed at him, holding his gaze for a second longer than was strictly polite.

"Well, if we're all done flirting, I think we should have a peek outside those doors," the Doctor said, standing.

"We weren't flirting," Sam and Clara declared at the same time, both blushing and looking away. Dean grinned at his brother.

"What?" Sam whispered to him.

"Uh, nothing," Dean replied nonchalantly, following the Doctor out the TARDIS, leaving Clara and Sam inside.

"After you," Sam said, gesturing toward the door.

"Thanks."

Clara smiled at him, skipping over the threshold and taking her place at the Doctor's side.

"Close the door behind you, Sam!" the Doctor called, not turning around.

Sam complied, then turned to survey the muddy French countryside. A ramshackle village clung to the hillside not far away, although the chilly, misty air obscured any definite detail.

The sun's weak rays filtered through the grey clouds, affording little warmth to the group huddled below.

"Why'd we land so far away?" Sam asked, peering at the village.

"Do you think you could do any better? My TARDIS is quite temperamental, and you're very very lucky we didn't crash into a house," the Doctor shot back, offended.

"No—sorry—I was just wondering."

"Maybe you should keep your wonderings to yourself—you never know whether the person you're offending might want to eat you for dinner." He stalked off.

"Don't mind him," Clara said, smiling tentatively. "When he's annoyed, he likes to insult other species. Guns put him on edge."

"Maybe he shouldn't have kidnapped us," Dean growled at the Doctor's back.

"Other species?" Sam queried. "What is he some sort of alien?"

"I most certainly am!" The Doctor reappeared. "Now. Less talking and more capturing of vampires!"

"What kind of alien is he?" Sam asked, ducking down to talk quietly with Clara as they walked.

"He's a Timelord. Once he told me that he was—one thousand and two-hundred years old."

"He, uh, doesn't look that old."

This elicited a small smile from the woman by Sam's side. "He does this thing called regeneration. So whenever he's dying, he uses this special energy and rewrites every cell in his body. The process is sort of random so even though he keeps his memories, he ends up looking completely different."

"Amazing," Sam said, staring at the Timelord in awe.

"Oh, he's still a bit of a show-off sometimes," Clara said, then corrected herself. "Most of the time."

Sam chuckled in amusement.

The group moved along the slippery path, doing their best to avoid puddles and uncertain patches of mud. At one point Clara missed a step, stumbled, and would have fallen if Sam hadn't reacted immediately. She gasped in anticipation of tumbling into the freezing mud, but instead looked up into Sam's worried hazel eyes. She quickly righted herself, and they traveled the rest of the way to the village without incident. Dean started keeping an eye out for the seventeenth century equivalent of a motel.

"What are you looking for?" the Doctor asked, excited to see the famous Winchesters at work. "Footprints? Blood splatters? Bodies?"

"A motel."

"Oh. We've got the TARDIS, you know."

"Too far away. We need a base of operations here, in town."

Sam joined the group. "Is there a pub with rooms to let somewhere around here?"

"Too far away…" the Doctor muttered, ignoring them.

"That looks like the type of place you're looking for," Clara noted, pointing out the weathered wooden building. A dripping sign creaked above the door.

"The Prancing Pony," Sam commented. "Works for me."

"It's nerdy, of course it works for you," Dean retorted.

"Oi! What's wrong with nerdy?" the Doctor asked, but the hunters ignored him and made their way across the road to the pub.

The door swung open surprisingly easily at Dean's shove, flying back on the hinges and slamming against the wall. All chatter in the smoky room stopped abruptly as everyone turned to look at the quartet of newcomers. They emerged from the rain, Sam ducking slightly due to the low ceilings, and whispers broke out among the watching crowd.

Ignoring the hostile stares, Dean strode up to the bartender, who watched them while slowly polishing a dingy pewter mug.

"We need a room, possibly for a few nights," he said shortly, leaning on the grimey counter.

"Two," Sam said to his brother, who looked up at him, confusion in his features. Sam nodded his head in Clara's direction.

"Oh, right. Two rooms," Dean amended. The barkeeper continued staring at him, polishing towel moving in slow circles. Finally he set the mug down, slapping his meaty hands onto the bar and hefting himself to his feet.

"You are a stranger," he said, a thick French accent blurring his words slightly.

"Yes. Yes we are!" the Doctor said, bounding up. "Hello, I'm the Doctor! This is Clara, Sam, and Dean." He paused, waiting for an acknowledgement.

"We do not welcome strangers around here," the barkeeper said finally.

"Ah," Eleven nodded.

"Listen, just give us the rooms," Dean said, voice low, as he set down the copper pieces the Doctor had slipped into his hand. The barkeeper finally crumbled before his glare, and gestured towards the stairs.

"Straight down the hall and last two on the left."

* * *

"Okay," Dean said, perching on the edge of the straw mattress and taking out his laptop. "Time to find out more about this vampire guy."

"Uh, Dean?" Sam said.

"What?"  
"We're in the seventeenth century. Internet hasn't been invented. How are you gonna research with that?"

Dean stared dumbly at Sam. "Oh. Right."

The Doctor winked at Clara, who was standing by the dirt-encrusted window, trying to make out more than the general gloom outside.

"If I may," he said, pulling out his sonic and bathing the laptop in its green glow.

"What are you doing?" Dean yelled, starting to his feet. Sam caught the laptop as it started to slide towards the floor.

"Just trying to help!" Eleven said, putting his sonic back in his jacket. "Try it now."

Sam did, opening the browser and clicking through some sites.

Raucous laughter came from downstairs, the thin walls and floor not filtering much of the discordant sound.

"Okay, we need to find some saffron, skunk's cabbage, trillium, and weapons so we can clean up this mess and get home," Sam said, shutting the laptop and slipping it into his backpack.

"Well we don't have any of our stuff thanks to Mr. Genius over there who decided to kidnap us!" Dean fumed. The Doctor pointedly avoided his glare.

"But none of those plants are found anywhere near here," Clara commented quietly. The boys turned to look at her. "Sorry. My grandmum loves plant archeology."

Dean groaned. "So no good weapons and no protective plants," he summarized shortly.

"Why would we need weapons? This is a catch and release case, isn't it?" The Doctor said, not looking at Dean.

"Catch and release?" the elder hunter scoffed. "We don't catch and release, we salt and burn."

The Doctor whirled around and peered into his face, circling the other man. Finally he sniffed his shoulder and frowned.

"Too early."

"What the hell are you saying?" Dean backed away from him.

"Too early!" the Doctor said, louder. "I picked you up too early!"

"You mean kidnapped," Dean said, growing angry. "You kidnapped us. Abducted by an alien. This encounter has gotten close enough! We do this hunt my way, timelord."

He spat the last word, somehow making it sound more insult than title. Sam and Clara backed slightly away from the other two, as if making a ring for a fight.

"Listen to me. There will be no killing, not on my watch, not here, not ever!" The Doctor declared.

Dean fumed. "This monster kills innocent people! I won't let that happen! And I think I've sacrificed myself enough times to call my own shots, so stand back!"

"Don't talk to me about death, don't ever, ever think you can do that because I have seen worlds burn and planets die and entire races extinguished in a blink of an eye so don't ever, ever say that. This 'monster' deserves life as much as every genocidal creature in the universe so we capture it, we take it to the Planet of Blutdurst and leave it with the rest of its race."

"Well," Sam said, stepping between the two, "regardless of what we're going to do, we need to find it first, right?" He looked pointedly at his brother. Clara poked the Doctor, who blew his floppy hair out of his eyes.

"Fine," Dean said.

"Very well," the Doctor conceded.

The room remained quiet, no one looking at anyone else. Finally Dean broke.

"I need a drink," he grumbled, grabbing his jacket and heading out the door.

Sam watched him go. "We should probably follow him. I could do with a beer myself."

The trio filed out the door and down into the bar. Dean sat in a corner, sipping from a dingy pewter mug and talking to a pretty girl. Sam made his way to the spot where the bartender was.

"I'll have a beer, please," he said. The bartender returned shortly with the requested drink

"So," Sam continued, taking a sip, "nice place."

"Yes," the bartender said. "My family has run this place since Gaul became France."

"You must know a lot of the townspeople then."

"Oh yes. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone knew Marie." He sighed. "'Twas quite a tragedy."

Sam raised his eyebrows and took a sip. "What happened to Marie?"

"She was found dead in her home. Blood everywhere."

Sam nodded. "Where's her house?"

"It is the small white shack by the river."

"Great, thanks. Also, you said you knew everyone?"

"Ye. We do not like strangers." The bartender lifted one eye towards Sam. "There was one a few months back. He visits this place a lot. Nobody sees him during the day. He hasn't left yet."

"Alright," Sam said, leaving his drink with the glaring bartender.

Dean looked up and saw Sam making his way towards him.

"Did you find anything?"

"The bartender told me an address, let's go check it out."

"Okay, but first," Dean pulled out a paper and pen, scribbled something and slid it over to the girl. "Call me."

The girl took the paper gingerly and looked at it in wonder.

"Dean, let's go." Sam nudged him away from the girl staring cluelessly at the ten numbers.

Soon enough, they found a river with a small white house close by. Dean cautiously walked up to the door and gently pushed it. The door slowly creaked open, revealing a tiny space covered in blood.

"The body's gone, locals must have taken care of it already," Sam said.

Dean stooped down and picked up a tiny object. "It's a fang, the vampire was here."

"Now all we need is to find the vampire, and kill it," Sam replied. "Decapitation, right?"

"Yeah, seems the most viable option at the moment."

They returned to the village, figuring that the blacksmith would probably be their best guess for weapons.

* * *

"Weapons? Why would I have weapons?"

The blacksmith was tall, look nearly eye to eye with Sam. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. Even Dean was a little intimidated.

"Okaaay. Do you have an axe?"

The man looked down at Dean over his bushy black beard.

"What's it to you? Why would you strangers come poking around here asking for an axe?"

"We want to clear a plot of land," Sam said sarcastically.

"Don't give me your sass, kid."

"Who's sassing?" the Doctor came in, grinning at everyone. The blacksmith's frown deepened.

"Guys, he's not going to help us." Sam said.

"I could-" the Doctor began, but was shoved roughly aside as the older hunter exited the hut.

The alien hurried after him. Sam waved a thanks to the blacksmith and ducked out of the shop. Dean and the Doctor were already in another argument. Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"They just can't get along, can they?" Clara asked, materializing at his side.

"Nope. At each other like cats and dogs…" his voice trailed off.

"And?" Clara prompted, but Sam was formulating a plan.

"Dean!" he called, hurrying towards his brother, Clara following close behind.

Dean turned to him, and the Doctor to Clara.

"I don't like him," the alien stated.

"No kidding. You two have been arguing non-stop since we landed."

"You don't seem to mind him."

"He's done nothing to me."

"You do seem to like his brother."

"Well, it's easier to carry on a conversation with someone who isn't constantly being ordered about and arguing with a bossy old man."

"Hey! I am not old! Anyway, I want you to stay away from both of them."

"Why should I?" Clara asked, offended.

"They're dangerous. They kill things for a living."

"So do butchers, and you still eat their bacon."

"This is different!"

"A vampire is killing people. You are going to spend your time arguing and showing off in front of the only two people who can stop it? You're really not as smart as you think you are."

"Just stay away from them, Clara. For your own good."

"No." She flipped her hair and strode over to Sam, who was in deep discussion with his brother.

"I'll go look around some more," Sam said as Dean retired to the pub.

"Can I come?" Clara asked. Sam shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"If you like. It will either be really boring or really dangerous."

"Hanging around you, I think it will always be really dangerous."

"You like that?"

"I'm not going to let it get in my way."

They looked at each other for a moment, unsure of themselves.

"We should go," Sam said, keeping his eyes on Clara's.

"Okay."

They both turned away.

"What are we looking for?" Clara asked.

"Abandoned buildings, dark, dry places, anywhere a vampire could hide, really."

Clara nodded and the two wandered down the path. Soon all pretense of searching for the vampire was forgotten, and they sat on a fallen tree, discussing their abnormal, crazy lives, glad to have found someone who they could talk freely with. Soon the sun began to flare through the clouds with its final light, and Sam realized how much time had passed. He unbent his tall frame, stretching slowly.

"We must have been sitting here for hours!" Clara commented, rolling her shoulders. Sam smiled down at her.

"It was nice though."

"Yeah."

They began walking back to the town. Sam turned to admire the scenery, and casually took Clara's hand. She smiled at the ground. They only let go when the Prancing Pony came into sight. Sam held the door open for his companion,then ducked into the building after her. Hunching his shoulders, he threaded his way through the crowd, the candle smoke stinging his nostrils. One he reached the stairs, angry voices began filtering through the floor.

Exchanging a worried look with Clara, Sam hurried up the stairs and into one of the rooms Dean had rented. The Doctor and the hunter were going at it with everything they had, shouting in each others face.

"-he's an innocent creature and he doesn't deserve to die!" The Doctor brandished his sonic screwdriver.

"Innocent my a-"

"Hey!" Sam yelled powerfully, silencing the room. "It's nighttime, so we need to figure out what exactly our plan is."

Nobody spoke, waiting for Sam to tell them what exactly their plan was. Realizing this, the younger Winchester ran a hand through his hair and paced the room a few times before turning back to his brother and the alien.

"Dean, head downstairs and see what else you can find out about the vamp before we head out."

The eldest hunter stormed from the room.

"Doctor, you and Clara should sit this one ou-"

"Absolutely not!"

Clara, who had not joined Sam in silencing the argument, appeared in the doorway, a large axe in her arms.

"Where did you get that?" Sam asked, relieving her of the hefty tool.

"Nicked it from the shed in the back. It's the only one though."

Sam weighed it in his hand.

"This is good. Thanks, Clara."

"Glad you like it, because I'm going to be there when you find that vampire."

"Clara, I really don't think-" the Doctor began, but his companion was gone.

"I'll be outside!" she said, then her footsteps sounded on the stairs.

"I'll find her," the Doctor huffed.

"I'll tell Dean it's time to go."

They exited the room.

* * *

Soon the hunters were grouped together outside. Glancing cautiously at the tavern, Sam and Dean flicked on their torches.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked, handing the axe to his brother and drawing a long, wickedly sharp knife from it's leather sheath.

"Yeah, now that the bossy Doctor isn't here telling us what to do…" Dean stopped. "Where is he?"

Sam's eyes widened. "Clara!'

"I'm sorry, what?"

Sam quickly changed his expression. "Uh, they followed me down to the bar, so they must be there."

"Well why didn't they follow us here? They're always following us everywhere."

"I don't know, we'd better go back."

They left the house and rushed back to the bar. The Doctor was pacing frantically, muttering about "Companions," and "Not wandering off." All in all he looked very frustrated.

"Where's Clara?" Sam called while he and Dean were striding up to him. The alien ignored him. Anger clouded Sam's eyes. He slammed the Doctor up against the rough wooden wall.

"Where is she?" he yelled.

"Well I don't know!" The Doctor rolled his eyes, blowing hair out of his face and reading something on his sonic.

"She's…gone?"

"Well, I was inside talking to a nice old man about his blackberries. She said she would be waiting out here. I came out—no Clara."

Sam released him, turning away and running a hand through his hair. He caught Dean watching him with a half smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's find this chick so we can kill a vampire and get home."

Sam glared at him. "Be a bit more respectful, for once, Dean. Don't call her a chick."

"Whatever you say, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

Dean smirked and turned away, surveying the surrounding countryside.

The Doctor was scanning the ground, his sonic sending a pulsing green light over the churned mud.

"I've found her trace!" he declared. Sam didn't even question it, starting after the Doctor, flashlight bobbing in the dark. Dean quickly joined him.

* * *

Clara's eyes flew open. She tried to stand, but twisted ropes cut into her wrists and ankles, securing her to a rickety chair. Panic flooded her mind as she tried to recall the last few moments. Candles flickered at the edge of her vision, some burning low, and others just lit. She was not alone.

"Help!" she cried out. "Somebody help me!"

"That will not be necessary, madam," a silky voice whispered. A man emerged from the shadows.

"Who are you?" she demanded, unsettled by his pale skin and tall, bony frame.

"That is also not necessary." The man smiled and his tongue ran over his razor fangs. "All you need to know is…I'm hungry."

He glided towards her. Mind racing, Clara fixed upon the first thing that came to mind, anything to stop his fangs slicing into her neck.

"Vampire! You're a vampire!" she declared, beginning to work at the ropes securing her wrists.

The man stopped and tilted his head, watching her.

"Yes," he said cautiously.

"But you don't belong here. You're on the wrong planet, maybe even the wrong time stream. I have a friend, he can help you!"

"Why would I want to leave?" he asked, snaking towards her again.

"Because everyone hates you here! You're feared and rejected—"

His hand came in contact with her face, fingernails leaving a long, stinging cut on her cheekbone. Blood trickled down her jawline and began to drip off her chin. He fixated on the beading red liquid, licking his lips. Clara shuddered. With a slight snap, her right hand won free of its bonds.

"Stop! I'm not your enemy! I just want to help!" she exclaimed, shoving his face away with her free hand. His fangs grazed her palm and forearm as she pulled back, leaving a long, shallow cut that bled from hand to elbow. She gasped, pain and adrenaline mixing their toxic concoction in her veins.

Angry at the temporary escape of his prey, the vampire lashed out at her, fist colliding with her left shoulder, superhuman strength mangling the bone and sinew, fingernails splitting the skin. Clara screamed, stumbling backwards, arm hanging useless by her side, thin jacket providing no protection from his rage. Her heel hit something—a brick? a stone?—and she tumbled backwards, rolling to bear the brunt of the fall on her good shoulder. But the ground was uneven, and jagged stones were piled all around her. Clara's shoulder glanced off one and sent her head slamming into the cold rock. Her vision flickered, and she struggled to focus on the approaching figure of her would-be murderer. Trying to push herself of the ground, a stream of blood ran from her head wound into her eyes. The vampire smiled and knelt to eye level with her.

"No," Clara protested weakly, groggy from her fall. The vampire tilted his head.

A noise outside froze him in his place. Suddenly the door flew open with a gust of cold wind that blew out most of the candles, and grey sunlight sliced across the dirt floor.

Hissing angrily, the vampire whipped his head towards the door, one hand around his victims neck. A tall figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, gripping a long knife. Dean hefted the axe, metal glinting slightly as the pair strode into the barn, followed by a distraught Doctor.

"Clara!" Sam and the Doctor's frantic voices echoed in the abandoned barn. Clara opened her mouth to respond, but the vampire tightened his grip around her neck, cutting her shout into a gasp. It was enough, though, and the torches swung in her direction.

"Fools!" the vampire said, pulling her to her feet and in front of him. The jolting movement caused Clara to scream in pain, her arm afire with bolts of pain. Sam started forward, a curse on his lips, but Dean restrained him.

"Doctor!" the elder hunter reluctantly exclaimed, his brother glowering at the monster. The Doctor stepped forward unafraid, watching Clara with shortened breaths. Sam and Dean began to edge around the side of the barn.

At the sight of the alien, the vampire gripped Clara tighter, making her wince. "Take one more step towards me, and I will break her neck."

The Doctor stopped. Sam and Dean did not. The vampire had all his attention fixed on the alien.

"You don't have to be this way," the Doctor said.

"I know." the vampire said. "The girl told me. Wrong time stream, wrong planet, all that."

Bouncing slightly on his feet, Sam rushed him from one side, Dean from the other. By the time Sam saw the vampire's smile, it was too late. The monster lifted Clara off the ground as he turned. Sam's fast-moving knife plunged into her torso, sticking on one of her ribs. She gasped, and blood began to ooze over the blade.

Sam's eyes widened.

With a loud crack and a duller thump, Dean disposed of the vampire. Without his support, Clara fell to the ground.

Sam couldn't breathe as he fell heavily to his knees, gathering her into his arms. He heard the Doctor running towards them, but all he could do was watch as the crimson stain spread over her side and the light faded from her eyes.

"Run." she whispered, so faintly Sam could barely hear her.

"Run you clever boy," she gasped, but persevered, as if delivering an important message. "And remember me."

Another struggling breath later, her body went limp. Running steps slowed and the Doctor knelt by the young hunter, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sam just stared at her, unbelieving. The Doctor frowned hard, carefully sweeping her matted brown hair behind her ear and closing her eyes. Then Sam blinked and took a shuddering breath, and reality crashed into his consciousness.

His knife in Clara's side.

Her blood dripping onto his hands.

His eyes filled with stinging tears, that soon evolved into shuddering sobs.

Laying Clara's body on the ground as gently as he could, Sam backed away, staring at his bloodstained hands while tears ran down his cheeks and dripped off his chin.

"Hey," Dean said gently, coming up to him.

"Get away from me!" Sam yelled, stumbling backwards, towards the door.

"Sam, calm down-"

"Get away! Dean, don't you see?" he was nearly at the door. "I'm poison. Everyone I care about dies. She's dead because of me!"

The Doctor tried to interrupt, but Dean wheeled on him.

"I seriously recommend you shut up right now."

When he turned back, Sam was already gone, disappeared into the misty forest outside. Dean cursed, loudly and eloquently, before grabbing his torch from the ground. His hand hovered over the knife in Clara's side as he thought of all the unknown dangers in the forest, then he gently pulled it out, sending more blood cascading down her ribcage. He hesitated a moment, looking at the dead girl, then ran into the forest yelling Sam's name.

* * *

The elder hunter found his brother, knuckles bloody and eyes dry, sitting on a fallen tree about a mile out from the town. He dropped down next to him, carefully keeping the knife out of sight. He didn't want Sam storming off again.

"We should get that cleaned up," he said, nodding his head at the dark blood congealing on Sam's hand. Sam shrugged, staring at his split knuckles.

"It wasn't your fault. It was his fault, and now he's dead. You have to realize that, Sammy."

The younger hunter was quiet, and Dean was sure he wasn't going to reply.

"Sam. It's Sam."

Dean gave him a small smile.

"Okay, Sam. Are you ready to go home?"

Sam nodded, and they trekked back to the village, where a squinting old woman told them the Doctor had headed for the hills not long ago.

"If he left without us…" Dean said, anger clouding his eyes. Sam just trudged up the muddy hill.

They both gave a small sigh of relief when they saw the odd blue Police Box was still parked where they had left it.

The Doctor poked his head out. His eyes were a little red.

"Come on, Winchesters! Home you go!"

They filed into the TARDIS and silently went to the console, Sam wincing slightly as he curled his fingers around the metal. Dean took no chances this time, white knuckling the bar before they even took off.

The flight back was short, somber, and even rougher than the one there, if such a thing was possible. The Winchesters stumbled out of the blue box, disoriented and bruised.

"Thank you," the Doctor said somberly, shaking their hands. He started back to the TARDIS, muttering to himself. Sam's head whipped around.

"What did you say?"

"Um, nothing!" The Doctor called with forced nonchalance.

Sam covered the space between them with a few strides.

"Doctor, please."

He stared down at the alien, eyes filled with pain and sorrow. The Doctor huffed loudly to conceal a sniff.

"Clara is a very special girl," he began. Dean came over.

"I know that," Sam said.

"I've met her before, sort of. She was a dalek."

"A what?"  
"A—no, nevermind about that. She died. I watched the planet she was on explode."

"But how-"

The Doctor steamrolled over him.

"I also met her in Victorian London. She was a governess who was also a barmaid and she died. Again."

Sam wrinkled his brow. Dean looked sceptical.

"My point is, Clara is-" he searched for the right word. "An anomaly. An impossibility." He smiled to himself. "My impossible girl."

The trio stood in silence.

"So she's alive." Sam said.

"Yes! Well, in a way." the Doctor waved his hand then rubbed them together.

"Explain."

"Somewhere, sometime, there is a version of Clara alive and well. At least, that's what I'm counting on."

"You're going to go find her?"

"That's the plan!"

The Doctor turned to go, but Sam caught his arm.

"Doctor, if you do, let me know. Please."

Smiling, the Doctor nodded. Sam let him go, and the alien disappeared into his ship, which soon gave off a wheezing, groaning noise as it, too, vanished.

Dean blinked a few times, as if to confirm it was really gone, then turned to survey the surrounding countryside.

"What were we doing?" he asked. Sam ran a hand through his hair.

"I have no idea."

* * *

_Epilogue, Two Weeks Later:_

Dean edged along the wall, gun clasped in his hands. Phone in hand, Sam walked behind him, GPS locater blinking softly.

"Nearly there," he whispered. Dean nodded.

Another step in silence, then Sam's phone beeped. The normally quiet noise flew into the air, bouncing off the walls of the abandoned house, echoing again and again. The brothers stopped.

"Sam," Dean said, voice dangerously quiet, "I thought I told you to turn off your volume."

"I did!" the younger hunter insisted, fiddling with the phone and confirming the mute was on.

"Then why," Dean turned to face him, every muscle tense in suppressed anger, "did it just make a noise?"

"I don't know! It was a text, I don't-"

Something sounded behind them, a shuffling, hissing noise.

"Sh-" Dean's exclamation was drowned in a hideous roar as the giant snake reared its head. The Winchesters took to their heels, razor fangs snapping shut just short of their flapping jackets. Sam kept navigating his phone as they raced to the Impala, trying to read the text that might well cost him and his brother their lives. After a dumbfounded moment of staring at the screen while still running full out, Sam whooped and leapt into the air, redoubling his speed and shoving his phone into his pocket.

"What?" Dean yelled, the Impala coming into view. Behind them the front wall of the house shattered as the snake continued to uncoil itself in pursuit.

"She's alive! The Doctor found her!"

"Who's alive?" Dean asked, wrenching open the driver's door and slamming into the seat. Sam was in a moment later, a giant grin on his face.

"Clara! She's alive!"

The Impala churned dirt for a moment before squealing away, leaving the snake hissing angrily at the border to the property it was cursed to protect. Sam's ecstatic shouts trailed from the black car, joyfully soaring into the starlit night sky.


End file.
